The Sweet Smell of Success
by Jane3
Summary: Ch. 2 UPDATE--With the stroke of a pen, the worlds most powerful columnist, Mark Calloway can destroy any man’s reputation—even break up his own sister’s romance? (features Hunter Helmsley as the hungry press agent)
1. Default Chapter

The world's most powerful columnist, Mark Calloway, will stop at nothing to destroy his sister's romance with jazz playing bass guitarist HBK—features HHH as the hungry press agent, desperate to claw to the top (Also: Trish Stratus, Steph as sister) A/N: this is from the film noir classic " Sweet Smell of Success" starring Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis  
  
Disclaimer: Please, I own absolutely no one, I don't own "Sweet Smell of Success", Hecht-Hill-Lancaster does—McMahon owns all WWF characters so don't sue!  
  
Setting: takes place in 1940s New York City, a dark and dirty place  
  
1 "The Sweet Smell of Success"  
  
Default Chapter:  
  
"Mr. Helmsley, phone for you," Sal, the owner of Lucky's men's club said, handing him a strip of paper containing a name.  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you Sal? I don't want any phone calls"  
  
"But sir, its--" Hunter cut him off sharply.  
  
"I don't give a damn who it is! No calls!" Turning his back to Sal, he addressed the gathered men at the bar.  
  
"I'd like to make a toast before I leave this rather illustrious group of degenerates," Hunter began, smirking and holding his shot glass high above his head. "To our driving force, our lifeline to our sad and lonely existences…it runs through our veins…it keeps us cool in the summer and warm in the winter…here's to the sweetest fragrance of them all…success!"  
  
"Cheers!" the press agents chimed in unison.  
  
1.1 Chapter 1  
  
Hunter paced up and down the New York City sidewalk. Though it was three in the morning, the streets were rather busy. He rubbed his hands furiously to keep warm from the chilled air as he anxiously awaited the early edition. Mark had to have his tip in the column. God knows that Gerald would kill him if he didn't fulfill his end of the bargain. He laughed slightly as he recalled their conversation. The things he would do for a dime, a nickel, a dollar. He could be starving right now.  
  
****  
  
"Don't worry Ger, I've got it all under wraps," Hunter began.  
  
"Yeah, yeah Hunter, right, like the last time… you know what? You're like a god damn thief, only difference is, you do it right in front of your victim's face. What is the point in paying you the money if you never get the job done? Hmm? If you don't get this done, we are finished, no more business from me," Gerald snapped angrily.  
  
****  
  
The loud thud of stacks of heavy papers quickly brought Hunter back to reality.  
  
"Get your daily Globe, featuring Mark Calloway!" An old man said, advertising for the paper.  
  
Hunter flipped a quarter to him, grabbing a copy. "There you go Gramps," Hunter said mockingly.  
  
Hunter started to walk away as the old man began to speak to him, "Hey Hunter, want a hot tip for Calloway's column?"  
  
Hunter turned around, surprised that he would know who he was, although he did have quite the reputation.  
  
"The president of the United States has been assassinated and the House of Representatives doesn't exist," he said rather stupidly, satisfied that he had gotten Hunter to turn around and listen to him.  
  
"Ha ha ha," Hunter replied tautly.  
  
Hunter tightened his grip on the paper as he walked to the nearest club, desperately trying to get some light so he could read the paper. He turned to page B6 and quickly scanned Mark's column for the item.  
  
"Son of a bitch," he muttered rather loudly. "What's he trying to do, strip me out of house and home?". Gerald was one of his last customers and he needed to come through for him, he needed to find Mark and quick. Why had he been shutting him out of his column?  
  
"So H H H, I hear Marky mark Calloway has shut you out of his column. I always thought you boys were tight, you know, you're the rat that furnishes him with dirty little items so he can print them in his column, God, you must be broke, ha, you must be living on food stamps."  
  
Hunter spun around on his barstool, looking in the face of Mick Foley, one of Mark's rival columnists from the Star. Hunter had mainly furnished items for Mark, but occasionally did a job for Foley. But not anymore. Foley didn't trust Hunter. Hunter was a snake in the grass. Venemous, just as dirty and rotten as Mark Calloway himself. Hunter was desperate to be at the top of the food chain, right were Mark was.  
  
"So what is it that you've done, or haven't done," Mick questioned slyly. Though Mick and Mark were enemies to the core, Mick would never stoop to Mark's level of personal attacks in the column, although that didn't stop Mark from doing it. Mark was what Mick considered to be a shock artist. And that just made him all the more popular. For god's sakes, the paper's circulation was 80 million in the U.S. alone and most of it was due to Mark Calloway and his shock style writing.  
  
"I don't know, I thought I got the job done, but I guess I didn't. I was supposed to break up Mark's kid sister's mickey mouse romance with some stupid banjo player." Hunter said, answering his question.  
  
"Ha, that's it? He wants you to break up Stephanie and Shawn? How the hell are you gonna do that? Wait, I don't want to know. But I would want to know why he should even care. Damn, that man is sick. Calloway always was a crazy cocakmamie bastard." Mick added.  
  
"Mick, if I were you, I'd be careful with my words, Mark is a very powerful man, and I'm sure you know he has connections to the police," Hunter advised to Mick while getting up and heading for the exit.  
  
"Where are you going?" Mick questioned.  
  
"21," he answered. "I've gotta find Mark, no one will hire me again if I don't find out why he refuses to print my items, especially when I thought I had gotten the job done," he said while flicking the collar of his wool coat upward and jamming his hands in his coat pockets. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Walking out of the club, Hunter approached the street curb, hailing a cab.  
  
"Where to Mac?" the driver questioned.  
  
"21," he answered.  
  
Noticing who he picked up, the driver could not contain his curiosity, "Hey, you're Hunter Helmsley ain't you?" the driver laughed to himself.  
  
"Yeah and what's it to ya?" Hunter asked.  
  
"Nuthin, just that news travels fast round these parts, real fast,"  
  
"Oh yeah? So what's the skinny?" Hunter questioned with fake disinterest. Maybe he could get a free item off this guy to give to Mark.  
  
"It has to do with a uh soytain somebody's sista and her uh…friend"  
  
"Don't bullshit with me man, I know Mark Calloway and he could cut your balls off faster than you can say 'pink slip'," Hunter threatened.  
  
"Cool it man, just cool it, this aint no chicken wing bullshit, this shit's on the level," seeing that Hunter had not interrupted, he continued, "Well anyways, as the story goes, a soytain bass guitarist has his eye on a soytain piece of eye candy"  
  
"Yeah yeah, and what else is new?" Hunter asked impatiently.  
  
"Well, this soytain bass player," he paused, enjoying Hunter's anticipation, "proposed to this soytain somebody"  
  
Hunter fell back in his seat, shocked at the news he had just heard. Now he was screwed. If he didn't break up that relationship it was sure that he would never work again. As Hunter was thinking, the driver had just yielded at a red light, conveniently in front of Tony's, the jazz club where the "Heartbreakers" did their nightly schtick. Evil thoughts crossed his mind as he began formulating a plan for destruction.  
  
"I'll get off here," Hunter said, not even paying his fare.  
  
"Hey, you owe me seven bucks!" the cabbie yelled angrily.  
  
Stepping out of the car, the driver was able to realize Hunter's intimidating stature, "Old man, if you really knew your news, then you would know that I don't own a nickel to my name, thanks for the lift," he sneered.  
  
The driver took off muttering angrily under his breath, knowing that Hunter had the power, or rather Mark had the power to ruin anyone with a single stroke of the pen, and he wasn't about to step over his right hand man.  
  
Hunter walked into the trendy club, circumventing the hat/check room, God knows he didn't have enough to pay for tips. He was looking for Shawn, not watching where he was going, he ran into Trish, a hat/check girl, and also one of his many 'admirers'.  
  
Trish smiled at him as she looked up into his face, full of determination. "Hunter, I haven't seen ya in eons," she said sultrily while rubbing her hands across his chest, having assumed that he showed up in the club looking for her.  
  
"Uhh, yah babe, have ya seen Steph around here," he asked scanning the room, completely ignoring the blond in front of him. "I don't see Shawn around here either," his glance staring at the stage, a single guitar leaning against a stool, while the rest of the band played on.  
  
"Yah, I've seen em," she conceded, "They're out back in the alley".  
  
"Thanks babe," Hunter said patting her on the cheek.  
  
She sighed at his lack of attention and then remembered something, "Oh Hunter, I gotta tell ya something, it's real important, I really need your help, I'm in a sticky situ--"  
  
"Don't worry babe, I'll catch you later," he interrupted, heading to the back of the club.  
  
****  
  
--Behind the club in the alley, the band can be heard in the background as a couple are engaged in a loving embrace.  
  
"Stephanie Calloway, how I want always to hold you like this and for you to be mine and whisper soft nothings in your ear," Shawn said sweetly holding her close, his strong arms wrapped around her waist.  
  
"Nothing would give me greater satisfaction my love," Steph replied.  
  
"There is one problem though, that damn last name," Shawn suddenly twitched.  
  
Stephanie dropped her gaze from that of her one true love. "I know, I know," she said, sadness in her tone. "My brother, Mark, but there's nothing to worry about, I'll tell him about us tomorrow—at breakfast," she looked up into his eyes, lifting his chin so that their eyes locked, "I promise," she said capturing his lips in a searing kiss.  
  
He pulled away, struggling with his emotions. "Steph, I don't know, I find it hard to believe that you two are from the same family, that man, that, that snake, he has no morals, he is power hungry and I don't know why you just don't see it, Steph just leave him and run away with me. Who is he to tell you what to do, who is he to run your life and ruin our happiness?" Shawn said, releasing his pent up anger toward Mark.  
  
"Shawn," she cried loudly, "Please, don't do that, I'm talking to him over breakfast, you don't know him the way I do, you don't," she said holding her tears back. How could the man she love speak such hard words about the man, her brother, who had cared for her all these difficult years in New York.  
  
"Steph, at least let me be with you there when you break the news to him, about us," he begged.  
  
"I, I can't, he'll totally understand, I gotta do this myself, okay honey?"  
  
Shawn could never resist that smile, "Sure, but don't think that he I'm scared of him, cause I'm not," he said unbelievably. "Okay, okay, he scares the hell outta me, but he could never scare me out of loving you, forever by my side," he said as he leaned in for a kiss.  
  
Suddenly a loud creaking noise emanated from the door that led to the club, directly adjacent to were they had been talking. Someone had been listening. Realizing his cover was blown and that what the cabbie had told him was true, Hunter walked out into the alley.  
  
"Well if it isn't the two lovebirds?" Hunter sneered darkly with a false surprise in his voice to Steph and Shawn, pretending that he hadn't just been eavesdropping. 


End file.
